


Forty-Eight Hours

by perigilpin



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, season 7, that new curse that has a ton of potential but will most likely be completely wasted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-08 22:17:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11655843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perigilpin/pseuds/perigilpin
Summary: It’s a busy week, then a busy month, and the days fly by faster than she can count, blurring in an existential kind of way. Regina tries not to think about it, and succeeds mostly as The Poison Apple wins two gold medals for their Draft Cider and another two for their Barrel Aged Bottles at the Annual Fall Cider Festival.Things wax and wane in a comfortable way for a while, culminating on a Tuesday afternoon that should be no different than another Tuesday afternoon. But there’s heaviness in the air tonight Regina thinks idly as she pours another drink. A little something extra that makes it harder to breath and that makes everything a little bit clearer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Very roughly based of of some of the Season 7 promo material. Basically I just loved the idea of Regina owning a bar, okay?

It’s 8pm on the west coast and the late summer evening is fading into a dusky orange as people pile in and out of the The Poison Apple. Nani’s poring drinks as Regina inventories the house craft ciders. She still likes to play bar back every once and awhile. So once she finishes her inventory she sends Nani home early with both their share of the tips, much to the younger woman’s protest, and set’s up behind bar. 

She’ll admit she likes to have a drink, flirt with a patron or two, and maybe bring someone home if she’s in the mood. It helps her keep things light. Makes her feel in control. 

A few drinks also help keep the dreams at bay. It’s the dreams that seem to want to test her very sanity, that haunt her with memories of a life she never had, that are stories in a book she was never a part of. 

She’s shared all of this with her therapist who has told her she is making more of it than it is. Dreams can just be subconscious desires, nothing more her therapist says, but maybe does she want to talk more about her sleep schedule?

In the first of dream there’s a boy, a young boy, and a woman who are almost always there. These dreams are so very specific, and the sheer amount of emotion wretches her heart, but she wakes they’re faded and fuzzy and she gives herself headaches trying to remember the details. On the bad mornings, she wakes up crying at the sharp loss of something she never had. 

In the other type of dream, the boy and the woman are there as well, but they’re calling for her, they’re calling for her help and she can get to them. She can never get to them.

She can’t say which kind is worse. 

So sometimes she’ll have a few drinks and invite someone pretty upstairs to her loft for a nightcap, and hope that if only for one night she can escape. Tonight she decides, will be one of those nights. So when the opportunity presents it self she doesn’t resist.

“ So, hypothetically, If I were to buy the bartender a drink, what would she want?” 

Maybe the girl is a little young for her, Regina considers, but she’s more than old enough to have ordered the Apple Whisky Sour she’s currently drinking and she has a lightness to her Regina’s been desperately craving in her own life.

“Tough question. Who’s asking?” 

The girl smiles and Regina pretends she doesn’t catch her sneaking guilty glances down her shirt, “ Samantha.” 

“Well Samantha, I would say that after a long shift the bartender is ready for something a bit more refined. Maybe a vintage she has up in her loft.” 

There’s talking and then kissing and a bit of laughing, empty wine glasses left on the table and clothing strewn carelessly at the foot of the bed. When she wakes in the night and see’s the waves of blonde hair strewn across the pillow beside her, something in her stomach tightens before she rolls over and goes back to sleep. 

In the morning she sends Samantha off with a cup of coffee and safe wishes for the rest of her coastal road trip before getting ready for the day. Even though the bar doesn’t open until two, there wasn’t a day Regina could remember that she’s slept past 8. She’s thought about being a little less involved more than once lately and she does trust her staff, but especially with her cider recipes she still feels she should have a hand in everything that happens. So she finishes drying her hair and throws on a fitted black t-shirt and her jean jacket to finish off her outfit before going downstairs to go through the motions once more. 

It’s a busy week, then a busy month, and the days fly by faster than she can count, blurring in an existential kind of way. Regina tries not to think about it, and succeeds mostly as The Poison Apple wins two gold medals for their Draft Cider and another two for their Barrel Aged Bottles at the Annual Fall Cider Festival. Things wax and wane in a comfortable way for a while, culminating on a Tuesday afternoon that should be no different than another Tuesday afternoon. But there’s heaviness in the air tonight Regina thinks idly as she pours another drink. A little something extra that makes it harder to breath and that makes everything a little bit clearer. 

Regina finishes closing a couple’s tab out as woman in a red jacket slides up to the bar, repeatedly looking over her shoulder. The woman is clearly out of breath from running somewhere and her shoulders are hunched inwards as if she's trying shelter herself. Regina can’t stop herself from asking, “Are you alright dear?” 

When the woman turns around to see who was talking to her, Regina swears she’s gone so pale she's going to pass out right there at the bar. The woman is still staring at her wordlessly and suddenly Regina feels self conscious, like somehow this woman could see directly through her soul.

“ Holy Fuck”, the woman mutters, still sounding out of breath. 

There’s a quite jingle from the bells at the door as more people enter the bar. 

“Double Fuck” 

Regina takes one look at the cops at the entrance and then at the woman who has turned her body further away from the door. Before she really has time to think about what she’s doing she unhooks her spare set of keys from her loop and slides them across the bar to her.

“See that back hallway? It has two doors. One goes to the alleyway and the other leads up to my loft. Leave the alley way door open a crack and lock the other door behind after you go upstairs.” 

“Why are you-“ 

“I don’t know.” Regina answers honestly and meets the woman’s heavy gaze, “ I’ll meet you upstairs after I close down dear. Please don’t make me regret it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, another chapter down another few to go. In other news, this chapter was fueled by Seasons by Future Islands. Enjoy!

The hour it takes Regina to close up and join Emma upstairs seems to be the longest hour of her life. More than once she’s opened the window and takes a good look at the firescape. It would be easy enough she thinks.

Logically she should run. For now at least. She been searching years for Regina and Henry, years, and she would go to ends of the earth to try and find them, but she guesses she hadn’t considered what she’d do once she actually did the finding. From what she can put together so far she assumes Regina must be under some type of curse similar to the one that gave everyone in Storybrooke with replacement memories. 

When she saw Regina it was the same warm brown eyes that greeted her, but to Emma, they were empty. The lack of recognition felt like a sucker punch. But somehow even this Regina trusted her enough to let her into her home. So for that she was grateful. 

She paced around the loft trying to find any type of clue. She knew she couldn’t lay all her cards on the table just yet. She was sure this version of Regina would be just as pragmatic as hers and most likely have her kicked to the curb with a restraining order if she started spouting tales of queens and curses and fairytales out of the blue.

Maybe Regina knew something important, even if she thought it was inconsequential information, and Emma didn’t want to blow the chance of finding out any information to help her remember. 

She was mid curse-breaking plan when she heard the keys turn in the lock.

“So you’re still here.” Regina dropped her keys on the table and kicked off her heels, “I must say I’m surprised. You struck me as a runner.” 

“I wanted to thank you.” 

“You can thank me by telling me exactly why those nice gentleman were chasing you through my bar?” 

“Oh yeah.” In all the excitement of finding Regina she had forgotten almost completely about what brought her there. ,” I was uh, briefly borrowing a cop car.” 

“Oh that’s all?” she says dryly before smiling, “How about a drink? Because I would love to hear the beginning of that story. And while you’re at it, how about a name?” 

“Emma Swan.” Emma watches her face closely for any time of recognition. She finds none. 

Regina disappears around the corner for a moment, “Well Emma Swan, what I would recommend is a taste of my Forbidden Fruit.” Emma nearly chokes and Regina lifts and eyebrow and smirks as she returns with a fancy looking bottle, “ it’s my Bourbon Barrel Aged Cider. It packs quite the punch.”

Emma is completely dumbstruck, because this isn’t her Regina and yet somehow still, it is so uniquely Regina, “Are you flirting with me?” 

“Well dear, normally I like to flirt with beautiful women before bringing them home instead of the other way around, but you don’t seem to be the rule following type so I didn’t think you would mind.” 

Speechless, it strikes Emma that Regina hasn’t aged one goddamned day, and suddenly she feels every day of the five years they’ve been apart weigh upon her. She can tell she’s tense, her whole body is on edge and she’s swallowed a million ‘I’ve missed you ’-s as they try and escape her mouth time and time again.

They sit for hours talking, Emma weaves tall tale after tall tale about her adventures while Regina delights in the absurdity, the whole time the truth sitting like a weight in Emma’s stomach. Emma tries to probe Regina for answers but is unsuccessful as she redirects every question back to Emma quite skillfully. 

When she finally does get an answer she’s not sure if it’s because of the alcohol or because maybe Regina is just tired, and she wishes she hadn’t asked. 

Emma didn’t see anything in the loft that would lead her to believe Henry had ever been part of this Regina’s life but she couldn’t stop herself, “ Do you have any kids?” 

It takes the other woman a second to respond and there’s a sadness in her eyes that guts Emma completely, “No.” Regina swirls the liquid in the bottom of her glass choosing her words carefully, “I always had wanted a child.” She paused, “The adoption process was not easy for me to say the least. As a single, working-class, bisexual, woman of color I wasn’t at the top of any list. It became, after some time, too painful.” 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something that would hurt you.” 

Emma tries to lighten the conversation a little asking about Regina’s cider recipes, but the tone in the room has shifted dramatically and she can feel her self being pulled deeper and deeper in. It’s not an hour before Regina’s hand is on the side of her face and she’s finding it hard to keep her breath steady. She can feel Regina’s warmth as she moves closer, the sweet smell of her skin. Her lips are inches away from Regina’s when she pushes back putting space between them. When she looks at Regina the woman’s face is flushed and slightly confused. 

Emma speaks first, “I’m sorry I just – can’t right now.” 

“I’m not asking you to move in dear.” It’s a joke, meant to make light but Emma can feel Regina starting to close off.

It’s not that Emma feels she’s taking advantage of this Regina, who is a woman in her own right, and more than capable of making her own decisions. But she can’t shake the feeling that she’s betraying her Regina, the years of trust and friendship they built. Once they broke this curse she was trapped in, well she didn’t want to deal with the consequences of letting her own feelings spiral out of control.

“There’s someone else.” Emma nearly whispers, and although it’s not quite the truth, it’s also not a lie.

“I’m sorry. I must have misread the signals.” She get’s up brushing something nonexistent off of her jacket. “ Well, I’m not going to kick you out after drinking that much, so you’re still more than welcome to stay if you need a place.” Suddenly she’s all business, “ I’ll grab you linens and you can set yourself up on the couch.” 

Emma’s head is still spinning from their near kiss and the cider so she doesn’t realize that as Regina moves her red jacket from the couch to a nearby chair, a small piece of paper falls out.

Regina bends down gingerly to pick it up and the gasp that escapes her mouth rivets Emma back to the here and now. 

She’s holding a faded photo, the edges soft from wear and the bright colors long muted. Emma remembers the day it was taken, Herny’s graduation from high school. It had been a day of normalcy, a small ceremony, a cookout and cake. The photo had been taken sometime during the cookout, with one mother on each side of him. Henry’s happiness was mirrored by Regina’s completely unreserved smile and Emma beaming, caught mid laugh.

Regina’s breath catches, “What is this.” She stares intently at the photo, handling it as it’s the most valuable thing she’s ever held in her hands. 

“I can explain.” 

Regina looks from Emma to the photo and pinches the bridge of her nose, “Who sent you? Who created this image?”

Before Emma has a change to answer, an influx of images sear through Regina’s mind bringing her to her knees. She brings her hands to her temples to try and quell the heat rising there. The years of dreams flash through her mind’s eye, still blurry still incomplete and painfully confusing. But now, now the faces are getting clearer. Emma rushes her side but Regina manages to bark out a concise, “Don’t.”

“Regina…”

“Don’t say my name like that. Like you know me.” Even on her knees Regina stands her ground, palms splayed outward at her sides as if to summon fireballs she has never known. The sight of it makes Emma’s chest tighten, “Did you… did you drug me?”

“No ! No I want to help you!” Emma runs her hand through her hair, physically pained by the fact she can’t do anything for Regina, “Just let me explain. I didn’t want to have to tell you this way. Please, I just want to make sure you’re okay first.” 

 

“Can you stand?” Emma reaches out a hand to Regina and she actually takes it, although she releases it as if it’s on fire as soon she’s standing. Without a word she walks into the kitchen and Emma stays seated waiting for her return. A million things run through Emma’s mind, but what really catches her, the most prominent thing, is that there is something there, Regina remembers something or else she wouldn’t be so shaken. 

Once Regina returns she sits down across from Emma in a chair across from the couch. Even in this more relaxed persona, she now sits her legs crossed and her arms laid over the back of the chair. Forever the queen, Emma reflects fondly.

“So Ms.Swan, I would love you hear to try to explain yourself out of this before I call the authorities.” 

She doesn’t know where to start, and she so obviously already messed this up that she might as well go for the gold, “ The boy in the photo, Henry, that’s our son.”

**Author's Note:**

> This should end up being a few chapters long so, stay tuned for more soon! It's my first time writing any Swan Queen fic so hopefully y'all like it as much as I enjoyed writing it.


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